Le Sigh

38 has been a wonderful age so far. I feel blessed, beyond measure. My friends, family, Gumball- are all wonderful. Perfect. I don't need anything else.

But... I don't want to jinx myself, or rush anything, or do any of the other foolish activities that I tend to partake in, but it's true. I have feelings for someone. He doesn't need me to protect him, take care of him, or, in fact, do anything for him. Which makes me want to do things for him. I want to cuddle the heck out of him! He's thoughtful, sweet, and fair, and his intelligence, experience, self-control, and toughness keep me on my toes. Sigh. I am trying hard to not mess this up, or to lose myself in feelings. We've been seeing each other usually twice a week, for over a month now, and OMG. Feelings! I am full of them!

(Must remember to be authentically myself and to take this slowly. Also- MUST remember that actions and words must be weighed carefully.)

Me

Shivers and tingles. I am feeling them.

Gratitude

I've noticed many friends on Facebook posting daily gratitude status updates. Which, ordinarily, would be something that I would mock. Not so gently. Posting a daily status update about how lucky I am, and how awesome my life is, is just not my thing.

I have a lot to be grateful for this year, however.

It may not be a daily status update, but in honor of November, I am going to write 30 things/people/experiences that I am grateful for, in no particular order.

1. I am grateful for my little Gumball's dad. I still kind of want him to choke on a grape, but I recognize that without him, I would not have my precious baby. I am profoundly grateful for the good we experienced in our relationship, and for the gift he gave me in allowing me to have sole, uncontested custody of our child.

2. I am grateful for my mom. She saved my life when I thought I would never be happy again. She pushes me, challenges me, annoys me, and helps me constantly. The love I have for my mom and my daughter are the deepest, strongest loves anyone could ever experience.

3. I am grateful for my daughter. My sweet, tender, beautiful, smart, challenging, Gumball. I would do anything to protect her, and would gladly lay down my life to save hers. She is so sweet and loving, and I look forward to our future together.

A Gumball anecdote. She doesn't want to nap these days. I put her in her crib, and she plays. Sometimes for up to 2 hours. Then she starts whining. When she whines, I either bring her into bed with me, or just get her up, and forgo nap. Today, I brought her into bed with me. I cuddled with her for a few moments, and tried to encourage her to sleep by pretending to sleep. It didn't work. But she took the opportunity to gently stroke my face, and kiss me. It was incredibly sweet. Then she started licking my cheek, and I had to roll over. She then curled up against my back, and fell asleep. The sweetness of these moments makes my heart ache. Minus the cheek licking. Ick.

4. I am grateful for the heated seats in my awesome car.

5. I am grateful for my friends. The old friends, like Steph, Court, Sherl, Moon, Lori, Jeannie, Donna, and Miguel- who all managed to visit me in my new, remote home. Visits make my house feel like my own. Jen and Kirsten, who are so good at staying in touch, and who fill me with love, gossip, and delicious snack ideas.

And my new friends. Dia, who isn't new, Abbey, Emilie, and Clarina. They rebuilt me. With them, I experience joy. We laugh, eat, gossip, and parent. The support and love they give me has literally renewed my faith in people. They are so kind, irreverent, and generous. They make my unexpected and shame-filled return to VT worthwhile.

6. I am grateful to be able to stay home with my Gumball for so long, and not agonize about money.

7. I am grateful for the family that rents my unsellable house in MA. I never worry about my house with them living there.

8. I am grateful for my favorite foods and the ability to cook them.

9. I am grateful Obama was reelected.

10. I am grateful for my former mother in law. Gumball's paternal grandmother. She has been consistently present and positive in Gumball's life, which means the world to me. I love her dearly, and am especially grateful that she told me that Gumball's dad is now super fat. Yay!

11. I'm grateful November doesn't have 31 days.

12. I'm grateful for my loving kitty, Pumpkin. He has the patience of a saint with Gumball, and allows her to drape him with necklaces and blankets constantly.

13. I'm grateful for my own strength, resilience, and capacity to love and be happy again.

14. I'm grateful for warm slippers.

15. I'm grateful for frivolous interests, like nail polish.

16. I am grateful for my general good health. For my strong body.

17. I am profoundly grateful for every morning I wake up, and get to experience my life.

18. I am grateful for the new friends I have yet to meet, and the old friends who are no longer active in my life.

19. I am grateful for passion, love, sex, and dirty talk.

20. I am grateful for crusty bread and soft cheeses.

21. I am grateful for the many people who reached out to me when I was at my lowest: Kim, Meredith, Jen, Lori, Jeannie, Dia... and others. I am profoundly grateful to them.

(Is it sad that I think 21 may be the limit of my gratitude?)



Yeah, I'm done. For now anyhow. 

Tissue

WTF are my recycled tissues made from? Recycled sandpaper? Recycled gravel?

My nose hurts and I am tired of having a cold.

That's all.

Weighty Matters

I've always thought I was fat. Now that I am actually really and truly fat, I wish I was the size I was when I thought I was fat, about 50lbs ago.

That said, I've now lost 13 lbs. The 3 from New Orleans, and 10 additional lbs. I'd be overjoyed if I could lose about 35 lbs more. Then I would be simply fat, and not FAT. That would be cool.

Next thing you know, I'll be strutting around in skinny jeans.

No, no I will not. Skinny jeans suck.

Fat

I gained three pounds in three days while in New Orleans.

This has got to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. My clothes don't fit right. I think my stomach may be, finally, bigger than my boobs. Intolerable.

I'm going on a diet.

A Vacation of Firsts

Dear Gumball,
Please don't read this section until you are old enough to understand that your mama is human. Frail, petty, weak, lazy, lustful, willful, and selfish- but trying her best to be the best mom in the universe to you. I try to be a better person every day so that I can lead you by example.

Just... not during this vacation. Not exactly. I do hope that you embrace life though, and that you, like me, devour new experiences with gusto and passion. Just don't read this yet, ok?

Thank you.

You loving, very human, Mama.







My trip to New Orleans was amazing, and it was also a vacation of firsts. In particular: my first grenade while walking up and down Burbon Street, my first strip club and accompanying first lap dance, and my first date while on vacation.

Can you believe that I was only in New Orleans for 3 days and 3 nights? We filled every moment of that trip with amazing meals and experiences.

Going to a strip club was different from my expectations.  I expected, first and foremost, big boobs. Nope, no big boobs. I thought the dancers would wear one pair of scanty underwear, but they wore two. Why? I'm not sure. Some of the men were as gross as I had expected, and some of the dancers seemed high, disinterested, and mechanical- which I expected. Some of the women were sexy, sparky, and full of personality- which was really surprising and enjoyable to see. Getting a lap dance was quite an experience. True to form, we spent the first several moments just chatting. Then she danced for me, in our private room, and rubbed up against me. It was pretty lighthearted, but still erotic. I'm still up in the air about how getting a lap dance fits in with my feminist ideals, but it was a fun experience nonetheless.

Then my date. When we went to Delmonico, one of the waiters was particularly charming and, honestly, hilarious. He insisted that we order the best dishes on the menu, and when I wanted to stray from his suggestions with the salted caramel bread pudding, he informed me that I could go ahead and order it, "if I wanted to be disappointed." He made me laugh. When my lovely companion went to the restroom, he came over to the table, and I asked if he wanted to see a photo of my beautiful daughter. He did, and we became Instagram friends. I know. Modern flirting at it's best. I asked if he had any children, and he said no. Was it the sangria that made me respond, "would you like to? We could have a baby together." Yes, dear friends and readers, I am off my fucking rocker. So is he, apparently, bc he laughed, smiled, and gave me his card, with his cell phone number. I asked if he was busy later... and the following evening we all met for drinks.

We had one particularly enlightening and entertaining exchange. I asked how old he was, and he told me that he is fifty. I was completely shocked, bc I've never been so attracted to someone so, well, so old. Plus, he looks much younger, whatever that means. So I demanded to see his drivers license. I looked at it, and he was born in 1962. Which really isn't so far away from my mid-1970's birth year. In my drunken state (those milk punches went down awfully easily,) I said the first thing that came to my mind. "See! I told you that you weren't fifty. You're just a little older than I am!"

That entire sentence is a complete lie. He is fifty, and I am, GASP, thirty-seven. Or, as I now like to think of it, almost fifty.

WTF. I am old! When did this happen?!?

So yeah. New Orleans. Best meals of my life, wonderful travel companion and friend who made every discovery a delight, lap dance, and an interesting, vexing, and terribly sexy new fifty year old friend. Who, by the way, I've been chatting with since I left. I hope I get to see him, and the fabulous, enchanting city of New Orleans, again.

Fortune Teller

My life has been a whirlwind. Guests- friends and family. For a week. A visit from Gumball's paternal grandmother and great aunt. Three days and nights in the Big Easy. I've never been anywhere where people are so friendly and outgoing. Between the food, sights, people, history, architecture, and experiences, I was floored. Now I understand the allure. I'm no 20 year old spring-breaker, but the air in New Orleans is enchanted, and I had an absolutely magical visit.

This was due, in part, to my travel companion. No, not Gumball. Gumball stayed home with Nana, and I hopped onto a plane with one of my friends. She is the best, and between the two of us, we managed to devour, walk, talk to, drink, and feel up all of New Orleans. We did it all, and it felt amazing. I couldn't have had a better companion, and we had a wonderful time.

Of particular note were these two restaurants: Cochon and Emeril's Delmonico. We ate everything. From fried liver on toast speckled with pepper jelly, to barbequed shrimp and grits, to rabbit and dumplings, and $40 steaks. Unbelievably delicious food and once in a lifetime experiences.

I saw a fortune teller too. He told me to let go of the feeling that occurrences in the past reflect my personal failures. It is true though. Deep down, I feel like I am somehow to blame for Gumball's dad's departure. I feel like his leaving shows my flaws and dirty underbelly. Exposes me as undesirable and a fraud to everyone. Bc why else would he have left, unless there was something really horrible about me? I often wonder if people I meet, when they hear my story, if they're trying to detect what it is about me that made him leave. As though I carry a faint odor of rotting flesh, or am a lousy lover, or whatever fatal flaw I must cleverly hide.

I am going to try to let go of that feeling of failure. I've tried and tried to make sense of it, and while blaming myself is probably the most comfortable and familiar path, I decline to continue to carry this doubt and blame any further.

The fortune teller also told me that I would have another child. It's a dream that I am scared to admit, and keep wrapped tightly inside, so that the disappointment of being single in my waning years of fertility doesn't make me sad. And I am incredibly blessed to have my beautiful and precious Gumball, so much so that it seems greedy to ask for more. I also know that raising two kids on my own would be very challenging, and possibly more than I could handle. In my heart of hearts, I would love to meet someone, have a relationship, and have a child within the embrace of that relationship. It's too much to ask of my uterus, I am afraid. But the fortune teller's words soothed me, nonetheless.

Duets

Ever since Gumball was a little, tiny chicklet, I've been singing Twinkle, Twinkle and then Rock-a-Bye Baby before putting her to bed. For the past couple of months, it's been a duet. Of sorts. In fact, she tries to sing over me and drown out my voice with her own. It's so sweet, and tender, and funny, that my heart melts.

Gumball is heart-meltingly sweet, and incredibly intelligent. She speaks in sentences, all the time, and I'm not the only person who can understand these sentences. She's also learned how to manipulate me into doing her bidding. It's pretty easy, as anyone who knows me can attest. Gumball will come up to me, and say, "hold me like a little, tiny baby." Who could refuse that? It gets a little tiresome sometimes, like when I have to carry her up and down the stairs "like a little, tiny baby." When she is completely capable of walking both up, and down, the stairs, on her own.

She's quite an independent, headstrong, willful little kid. If you were to tell her this, however, she would insist, "NO KID. I'm a monkey." Or, "I'm a kittycat." When I thank her for doing something well, and tell her, "What a smart girl, Gumball," she will say, "NO SMART GIRL. I'm a smart BABY."

This kid. I never imagined being so fascinated, enchanted and delighted by anything ever.

September 2012

I haven't been posting too much for a reason. I linked to this blog from my Instagram account, and then became paranoid about who would see what. Then I remembered: no one cares. I don't mean that in some melodramatic, teenage, hair-tossing sort of way, simply that everyone's lives are so full and busy that my blog doesn't really factor in too much.

Also? I was keeping a secret. This summer I fell in love. And, just like that, I fell out of love.

She is a lovely, kind, and very sweet person. Apparently, I need more than that. There was more to it than that, though. I didn't feel like she cared enough about me to truly get to know me. To ask me questions about me. Instead, she made assumptions and projected them on me. I also didn't feel appreciated. I would go out of my way to cook elaborate dinners, to buy thoughtful gifts, and to do things to please her, and these actions were rarely reciprocated, and even less frequently praised.

She didn't cheat on me, lie to me, or leave me, but things weren't right.

Am I going to be alone forever? I hope not.

Partridge

My mom has a pet partridge. A wild one, that follows her around, and pecks at her feet. In typical fashion, she is afraid of it. You don't know my mom. She's a forester. Cuts all her own firewood. Grows all her own vegetables. Completes tedious, crushingly difficult tasks through perseverance. And was once terrified of her neighbors' fat cat, Rusty, bc he was too friendly. She is a life-long cat lover. Scared of a big, fat, geriatric, orange cat. Also afraid to do some work under her car, for fear that this little, tiny bird will peck her.

On the Gumball front, we have two-year molars. I hate teeth. We've had fevers, vomiting, constant requests for medicine, and really, really terrible moods.

She hasn't totally lost her sense of humor though. The other night, I had to change her diaper. Now she can count to thirteen, so she started counting. When she got to thirteen, I started, "fourteen..." and paused. Then she said "poop-teen" and started laughing. Yup. Poop jokes already.

Potty Mouth

Last night, before bed, I asked Gumball if she wanted to pee on the potty. We talk about the potty a lot these days, and read books about the potty, and talk about big girl underwear, and who uses the potty... ETC. So I asked casually, assuming that, like usual, Gumball would say something like, "no. No use potty. NO!!!... thankyou."

But last night, she agreed to pee on the potty. I assumed it was a clever attempt to delay bedtime, but I went along with it. Gumball walked to the potty, sat down, and peed!!!!! I really couldn't believe it!

Today, all attempts to get Gumball to use the potty have been semi-unsuccessful. She would sit on the potty, twice, but there were no... positive outcomes.

Oh well.

Fashion Advice from a Toddler

Today, at breakfast, Gumball informed me that it looked like I was wearing a bib. "Mama wear a bib."

I was wearing this shirt:

Clearly, I am wearing a bib. Thanks, Gumball. They grow up so fast.

Gumball is so funny lately. Talking is a blast. Not everyone can understand her, but those who can, hear sentences. She says things like, "I don't want milk (pronounced "munkle" or "meeeeeaalk")." Today she placed her toys in her time out spot, and gave them all a time out. When I turn on music in the car, she sings louder. Before she goes to sleep at night (7pm, whatever) she likes to talk about what we did during the day. Or what she thinks we did during the day. She has an active imagination.

She loves Pumpkin, all monkeys, frogs ("hogs"), Clifford, and, of course, babies. She currently has: Binky Baby, Water Baby, Little Dada (x2), and Tiny Baby (x2). We aren't very creative about names. But she loves them all.

In other news, I've also started encouraging Gumball to help me. I give her little tasks, and she actually does them. She loves to throw away bits of trash, and put dirty clothes in the hamper. Today, Nana was asking me where she left her shoes, and Gumball ran to retrieve them. Smart, and a proficient eavesdropper.

Reality Check

Lest anyone think that I am entirely full of sunshine and light, let me share a _delightful_ occurrence.

Gumball hadn't pooped all day, and when I put her to bed, I fully anticipated having to return to change a diaper. I arrived to an unpleasant smell, and when I asked Gumball if she had pooped, she whispered "yeahhhh." I was not anticipating that she would hand me her diaper when I came over to her crib, and that I would find myself stepping on a million little rabbit turds. Baby Gumball rabbit turds. I turned on the light. Hundreds of turds. On the bed, on the floor. Awesome. Thanks, Gumball.

Hot, Hot, Hot Summer

Things have been wonderful. I spend as many days as possible at Lake Iroquois. My little Gumball loves going. She splashes, plays with "Water Baby" (a babydoll that can go into the water) and Monkey (one of four stuffed monkeys that are not intended to be water toys.) We splash and play, and I'm more tan than I've been in years. Gumball's racial and ethnic background (1/4 black, 1/4 Puerto Rican, and 1/2 assorted white) is showing though: her coloring ranges from cafe au lait (face), to coffee with a dash of cream (feet), despite religious sunscreen application. Being out on the lake, in the sun, playing with a mostly joyous toddler, chatting with random moms- is bliss. We've been picnicking too, and good food makes all outings more fun.

When we're not at the lake, we visit playgrounds, play with friends, splash in the water table out back, and play endlessly with babies, monkeys, and blocks.

Summer has been so delightful. I'm still just trying to take things one day at a time.

Love

I thought I would never again have the luxury of falling in love. To be happy, moderately well-rested, semi anxiety free, and falling deeply in love in perfectly beautiful Vermont summer weather is awe-inspiring and wonderful.  "Wonderful" in the real sense of the word, as in full of wonder, and not just a pleasant, and positive emotion. It is new, delicate, tender and intense. And of course, terrifying. 

I still feel like I'm holding back. Having so recently been so broken-hearted that I thought I'd never be able to love anyone other than my dear friends and lovely Gumball, this fresh bloom of emotion makes me experience crazy extremes: love, fear, anger, joy, tenderness and sullen confusion. I often think that E. deserves more. More fun, more careless laughter, more unguarded affection. Less toddler-manipulated scheduling, fewer play dates, dinners later than 5:30pm.

She is so sweet to me, and kind. Lovely and generous. Gentle, sweet, thoughtful. Even better, she is unbelievably kind to my Gumball. Talks to her, plays with her, is loving and affectionate to her, and spends as much time as I do hunting down Monkey, and Baby. Every single time she offers Gumball her water, or gives her a bite of muffin ("mutton"), or tries to make her laugh, my heart melts. Melts.

Sunny Days

Now that the weather is beautiful, Gumball and I have been going everywhere and doing everything.

• We went to the lake, where Gumball got to splash in the waves, eat a grape popsicle, and nap in the car.

• We played, alone and with friends, at our water table. Gumball LOVES it. Monkey loves it less, as he is often the unsuspecting victim of multiple "kabushkas" (the sound we make when dumping water on someone's head.)

• Her love of the water isn't limited to the water table, however. Bath time is also a lot of fun!

• We also went with our friends to Santa's Village. It was a really fun trip, and Gumball and her friends got to go on the slowest, safest rides on earth, pet (or shake with terror over) reindeer, visit a petting zoo (goats!), and play in the pool.  

• Gumball is also a huge fan of the park. She occasionally goes into the "big girl swing" and I spend the entire time pushing her reminding her to "hold on with your hands." She likes to swing and sing, which is adorable. 

And being silly. Gumball is quite a ham.

Inevitably

As soon as I find a regular and wonderful pattern in Gumball's sleeping, it changes. All of a sudden, she hates sleeping again. Why Gumball, WHY????

Fortunately, she is happy to play in the dark, in her crib. While I fret.

Everything the Same; Everything Different

Gumball has been sleeping wonderfully. Long naps (2+ hours!) and 8pm- 8am overnights. She's a delight to be around: happy, energetic, loving, and hilarious. She wants to joke and jump. Pet the cat, go outside, play in the water, and eat "raspberries" (any berry, especially blueberries from the 2 trees Nana gave me for Mother's Day. Hand over fist.)

She talks so much. Non-stop sentences. Some words she doesn't pronounce perfectly. Like:

Carrot- cadet
Yogurt- yogunk
Naked- nakey (I taught her this one).

And I also call her butt, her buns. It's too cute to me. 

I can't begin to say how much reasonable amounts of sleep make me a happier person.

That, and having the unbelievable luck to be dating someone who interests, intrigues, and delights me. E is lovely. Sweet, quiet, reserved, and honest. I introduced her to Gumball. Decided that I was over-thinking things. I introduce Gumball to all my friends, why not my "special" friend? It's not like I introduced her as "Gumball's new mama." Fuck no. We met for lunch. Simple. Then, I had E. stay over. I don't know if this was the right way to do things or not. I don't know. My mom thinks having E. stay over means that I'm moving things too fast. I don't know. I only see her on the weekends, and she's met my important friends here. I'm scared and hopeful. I hope I'm doing the right thing for me, and for my little baby Gumball. And for E.

After so much pain, disappointment, and heartbreak, it amazes me that my heart can feel anything anymore. I am bursting with hope, and lust, and longing. I think staying over on weekends isn't too much too soon either. I am still so scared, and cautious. I don't want to make the same terrible mistakes again; I'm pretty sure my heart can't survive another heartbreak.

May 2012

My darling Gumball has decided to take a break from napping. For a week. I thought it was over, because she napped yesterday, but no. No nap again today. She plays, happily, and cries, unhappily, in her crib. It's awful. I brought her to the doctor. Nothing wrong. Nana laughed at me, because in her opinion, Gumball is completely fine, just acting like a normal, bratty two year old. She's like a tiny, drunk tyrant: irrational, emotional, prone to fits of laughter and tears. Completely unable to be satisfied. Terrible. It really is wrenching when your kid wants something, and is miserable, and also has no way to articulate what she wants. Lila has a huge vocabulary, but she is no where near being able to say how she feels. Very frustrating.

I went out with E two more times. Dates 5 and 6. She's lovely. We have a great time together. She likes me. And I am... scared. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do. I don't want to be hurt again. I don't want to hurt her either. I know, I know. Take it day by day. I am doing that. But I am also worrying about literally everything else that I could possibly worry about. And then there's Gumball. When do I let them meet? I am very conflicted about everything. Wish there were some answers out there.

Shaking Hands

Gumball has this book about puppies. On one page, it says something about how puppies can be trained to shake hands. When I read that page, Lila literally shakes her hands. Like tiny maracas. It took me a while to figure out what the heck she was doing. Then I understood. Shaking hands. Right.

This age is so much fun.

Happy 21 months, Gumball. Mama loves you!

Dates 3 and 4

I'm happy. And giddy.

Dates three and four were wonderful. I'm so attracted to this woman, it's ridiculous. She is sweet to me, and thoughtful. We talk and laugh together. I'd be lying if I didn't admit to planning out our entire life together. Because I'm cool like that. Planning our lives together does indeed freak me out, but when I take it day by day, I am really enjoying myself. It's funny though. When I think about not having more biological children, being with a woman forever, and all the crazy ways I plan ridiculously far into the future- I feel crazy (because I am!) and terrified. But when I see how she calls, and texts, and buys me flowers, and makes me feel special, and appreciated... I feel happy and excited to see all the future holds.

Date Two

E and I had our second date yesterday. Supermoon, walking by the lake, holding hands, kissing, dinner, etc. I came home with my bra in my purse but have managed, somehow, somewhat, to keep my vow to not become intimate until in a committed, honest relationship. I really like her. I like how she treats me, and how she makes me feel. I am _NOT_ rushing to making any promises, or declarations, or commitments. But it is lovely to enjoy having these feelings again. Positive, euphoric, day-dreamy feelings.

We also discovered a crazy coincidence. I may have met her grandparents. They have a house on the island where I lived as a child. We know many of the same people. Which is completely insane and mind-boggling.

Beautiful

One of my dearest friends is almost 80. She was my neighbor in Massachusetts. A kind, thoughtful, generous person. And incredibly feisty. When I was getting my Master's degree, I would come home to find a homemade chicken pot pie on my doorstep. She was the sort of neighbor who turned into family. In a good way. When I moved to Vermont, she came with me and helped me for 2 weeks. She constantly sends Gumball gifts, and is truly one of my best friends.

Her kindness is not to be confused with being passive. She's far from passive. She's a matriarch, and has opinions and judgements about everything. When we go shopping, she occasionally takes things out of unattended carts.

Today I told her about my date. I knew already that she's a big supporter of gay rights; but I wasn't so sure how she'd react to me having a date with a woman. Her response was so joyful and uplifting to me. She said that she just hopes that I meet someone who loves me and treats me well. And that it doesn't matter to her if it's a man or a woman.

All this from a woman who grew up cleaning houses when she was a kid, never having new shoes or clothing, who never went to college, and who has lived her whole life in a small town outside of Boston. I expected so little, and was treated to a beautiful gift.

And I am really looking forward to my next date with E on Saturday.

May Day 2012

Sometimes it's best to share the shame.

I did it.

I bought tummy control exercise pants. After carrying a 9lb 14oz baby, and having a c-section, I was getting afraid that my gut was going to bounce free in Zumba class, and knock someone out. It came close to bouncing free many times, and holding up my exhausted stretch pants was getting tedious.

At least there is enough of a market for this sort of product so that I, and other flabby bellied women, can be well-supported during exercise.

In other news, I went on another date. It was great. She was thoughtful, sweet, and cute. And 29. I thought I swore off dating people so much younger than I am, but I may make an exception. She has the tiniest little doll hands that I have ever seen on an adult. She held doors open for me too. We're supposed to go out again on Saturday. I'm nervous; she seems wonderful, but has one terrible flaw: she seems to like me. Not quite sure how to deal with this.

Spring Sprang

The weather has been beautiful. My little Gumball stands by the door, reaching up to jiggle the handle, saying "outside. Go walk outside!" Since she is prematurely entering the terrible twos, this is often followed by brief toddler rage, and/or tears. Fun times. We do go outside whenever the weather allows. Gumball loves to visit the ceramic pig outside in a neighbor's garden, and chase bubbles, and go for sprints around the yard. She's so much fun these days, tantrums aside. She talks, and sings, and plays with reckless abandon. She loves Pumpkin, who she calls "Pumpin" or just Cat. She watches for the moon, and tells me frequently, "the moon is only at night." She adores babies, especially "Baby Wee-o," and loves her little friends. It's incredible seeing the kids grow up together. You know. To the ripe old age of 20 months.

It's been a happy, and generally peaceful, period for me. Gumball's last name has been legally changed to match mine. We've been busy with friends and have enjoyed visits from family.

I had that one fantastic date, and while it didn't turn out the way I thought I wanted (please note: zen detachment. Thank you, therapy.) I've been communicating with other people online though, and may have another date again soon. Hopefully the next person who asks me out won't move out of state immediately following our date.

Happy Easter!

Sick Kid

Gumball has a stomach bug. For two days, she has woken up gagging and vomiting, and a little feverish. By evening, she's mostly ok, and has managed to eat a little dinner too.

Being quarantined with a sick toddler is miserable. Nothing I do makes her happy. Unless I am reading Curious George. I read 120 pages of Curious George today. Towards the end, I was starting to doze off. I woke myself when I heard my own voice saying "fish is good. Especially in stew." Those words are most definitely not in Curious George.

Mama needs a break.

Unique

I am unique.

I am the only person who has ever had a date that was so amazing, so incredible, that he had to move out of state to avoid having a second date.

He sent me the nicest text message today, explaining all of this, bc he felt that he "owed me an explanation." He has to come up here to see his daughter, but until he can find his own place, living in VT is not going to work.

I am still keeping 2 fingers crossed that I see him again.

A Funny Anecdote

Tonight, when I was getting Gumball ready for bed, she asked me for baby's brush. I looked, but couldn't find it. So I asked her, "how about Lila's comb?" as I handed it to her. She looked at it thoughtfully, handed it back, and said, "how about baby's brush?" With attitude.

Things have been good. I've been cooking, eating well, and enjoying myself.

One thing hasn't been so good though. After the terrifically fun date, and a nice conversation the following day, I haven't heard back from my date. Wednesday will be a week. It's Monday now. I am trying to be patient, but I really want him to call. I'm a bit disappointed about this. We had good chemistry, I thought. Maybe I have no idea what good chemistry is anymore.

In other news, it seems that although my divorce and Gumball's name change (from his last name to mine) are official, getting paperwork certifying this is turning into quite the challenge. Can't this part of my life be done already?

Signs of an Eminent Apocalypse

Something's kind of fishy around here.

I'm not at all sure what happened, but maybe the Mayans were on the right track. Is the end nigh? The following suspicious activities occurred:

1. (With help) I reorganized my closet.

2. Gumball took a 3 hour and 15 minute nap today.

3. I went on an amazing date last night. With the owner of the hilarious, clever profile. And it was wonderful. We had a beer, ate some fried mushrooms, talked, flirted, and kissed. I'm looking forward to seeing him again.

Signed
- Happily waiting for the damn asteroid

Banking on Humiliation

Today I went to the bank to open a new account. It was taking a long time, and I had errands to run. The lovely, kind bank accounts manager kept trying to give me brochures and pamphlets. That I didn't want.

Then he brought me my new ATM card. And one of those neat, little envelopes that they come in. He referred to it as a "protective sleeve." Then I did it. I asked him "if he puts his stuff in a protective sleeve."

As the last words slipped out of my mouth, I caught myself. And said, "Oh, that sounds awful! Please don't answer me."

We had a good laugh, as the heat of complete and total mortification lit up my face like a beacon. I couldn't even look him in the face for the rest of our meeting.

Internet "Dating"

Internet "dating" sucks.

I say "dating" bc no actual dates have yet to occur. It's very confusing to me. There have been 5 or 6 people who've written me, asked me out, given me personal email addresses, or phone numbers, or whatever- only to drop off the face of the earth. I just don't get it. How could a fat, out of shape, stay at home mom to a toddler NOT be hot fucking shit in the dating world? Geez.

I just got yet another phone number though. I have a wicked crush on this guy's online dating profile. It's probably nothing. In fact, he'll certainly blow me off as soon as I write this. Oh well. Let me share some of his profile.

This is how he describes himself:

I garb myself in clothing that denotes me as trendy, cool and independent. My car indicates to the casual observer that I'm socially cognizant, yet tasteful. My degree reminds me that I am certified by the appropriate authorities as educated. I read weighty books in public so that passersby will think me cerebral. I surround myself with the accouterments our society demands of us to define ourselves. I have spent much time researching what the trend-setters, the intelligencia and the marketers have anointed as self-image short-cuts. I have taken great pains and spent much money to use these marketing gimmicks and intellectual code words to craft the persona I wish the world to perceive. Only to be forced to fit this carefully postured facade and orgy of self-absorption into a few short sentences? I think not. 

Dear reader, do you now lust after his online dating profile too? This is what he says he's really good at:
Boasting about how I'm really good at things at which I'm marginally above average at best. And I heard that you're really good at that too--Props.

Being a ray of fucking sunshine. 

Squeee!!!!

And this one last little bit:

And... How exactly does one "set fire to the rain"? What the fuck is she talking about? Where do they get they get these lyrics, high school freshmen?

OMG. If I could do dirty things to this profile, I totally would. Sadly, just like every other online dating profile, there's probably a broken, sad, guy, who's not ready to date bc he's still living with his wife. Or his mom. Whatever.

Wahhhhh!

December 2011- February 2012 Photo Bomb